


Into each life some rain must fall (But too much is falling in mine)

by Munchy



Series: Easy Living [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Acceptance, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexual Butch DeLoria, Canonical Character Death, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, In which Butch discovers that he may have been in love with his best friend, M/M, Multi, Pansexual Lone Wanderer, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Relationships, Recovery, Sexuality Crisis, Talking, Talking about past relationships, Too bad said friend is dead, one-sided sexual attraction, rip my angry snake son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 01:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13424316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munchy/pseuds/Munchy
Summary: "The world keeps turning despite all the tragedies that have unfolded, like a stubborn bitch. But Butch wishes he could grab the little blue ball and spin it backwards. Go back in time and say, “Fuck it.” just so he could sit here in this moment, feeling less regret."Or Butch discovers some deep-seated denial that he wishes he’d stayed blissfully ignorant about.And the night started out so fun too.





	Into each life some rain must fall (But too much is falling in mine)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm back at my Fallout bullshit again!  
> I started this a while ago, but only now found the motivation to finally finish it. The ending sill feels a bit rushed, but I'm satisfied with it. As usual, I don't have a beta for my Fallout fics, so if you're ever interested, hmu yo! 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Butch let’s out a content hum when his back finally hits the soft mattress. True, it was still grimy as hell, but there were decent sheets and a mountain of blankets between him and it. So he curls in just a bit more and pillows his head in his arms.

 

He’s about to shut his eyes when he feels the makeshift bed dip slightly. He looks over to see Magnolia wrap herself up in even more blankets. Butch snorts as he watches his 6’1” best friend flop this way and that, trying to get comfortable. She looked kinda like one of those Centaur that waddle on the ground, except she had that wild hair instead of tentacles (thank God). She looks at him when she’s finally comfortable and gives a smug smile as she watches him laugh.

 

Butch has no problem sharing a bed with his fellow Tunnel Snake. He wasn’t some ten-year-old shouting “Cooties!” anymore. He’s a real man’s man now, despite what Bannon or Harkness says. He’s an adult that knows how the adult world works. So when he stops laughing he reaches out of his nest and lays his hand on her exposed thigh.

 

Magnolia frowns for a moment and pauses. He gives her what he thinks is a provocative smirk, putting on the moves full force. It’s half joking, of course, he knows Mags only dates girls, he doesn’t know if she actually sleeps with them. It was worth a half-hearted shot even if it was in the dark.

 

She smiles at him in that kind way she smiles at children, then takes Butch’s hand and places it back on his side before patting it gently, like it was a baby mole rat.

 

“No thank you.” She says kindly, quietly.

 

Okay, so maybe he _doesn’t_ know how the adult world works.

 

“Somethin’ wrong, Mags?” He says after a minute of just staring at her like she had personally offended him — technically she did, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t take a few hits to his pride… maybe—.

 

Magnolia, for all her patience and kindness, sighs and gives him another one of those gentle smiles that say she’ll help. The kind Butch rarely ever got growing up but he wishes he had.

 

“I’m sorry, Butch. I’m just not sexually attracted to you.” It’s blatant and cuts through him like a freshly sharpened switchblade. It isn’t the sting of rejection, Butch is much more familiar with that feeling. It’s a personal jab to his bloated ego. It’s getting knocked down from his self-build pillar. It was also a stab at his own idiocy because Mags only likes girls, so of course, she wouldn’t be into him. He’s just being a horny fool.

 

“What'd ya mean?! I am one hundred _percent, grade A_ man meat, honey. You sayin’ you don’t want a piece of the _Butch-man?!_ ” He sits up and flips on his side, not having the energy to pace the room like a caged animal, but still manage to complain and argue. Really though, he’s more or less faking his offense. Exaggerating it to be funny and break whatever tension he may have caused. She said no, and that’s all there is to it. Butch ain’t a _monster._

 

Magnolia bursts into laughter and doesn't stop until there are tears in her eyes. “Oh God, no!” she says through her fit of giggles. He flips over again, shooting her a glare. This close he can smell the soap she uses even through all the blankets and sheets that haven’t been washed in weeks. She turns to him, wiping her eyes, “I mean…” she coughs awkwardly, giggles still slipping past her lips, “Sorry, Butch.” She’s happy, which makes him happy that he didn’t screw up what they had, but regardless he still pouts and folds his arms. A blush burns his cheeks and ears from his own embarrassment. She starts laughing again which doesn’t help in the slightest.

 

“Yeah, yeah, rub some more salt in it why don’t ya!” He huffs indignantly, but can’t help the way the corners of his mouth turn upward.

 

“I’m sorry Butch,” She apologizes again, “But it’s true, I’ve never found you sexually attractive.” She notices his small smile as he looks up at the flaking ceiling. “Though aesthetically you are nice to look at,” she adds and watches his smile grow.

 

“Well, I guess I can’t be too mad at havin’ a pretty face,” Butch smirks and presses his cheek against his arm. “Okay, so if I ain’t up to your tastes, who is then?” He asks, knowing full well who Magnolia’s been pinning for. Still, he enjoys the blush that spreads across her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Payback.

 

Magnolia coughs slightly into the blanket balled up in her fist. “Uhhmm…” She answers elegantly. Butch barks out a laugh and Magnolia lightly pushes him, sliding her arm out from her nest just to do it.

 

“Come on, Mags! I already know who she is! It ain’t like I’m judgin’.” Oh, he was _judging_. But to be fair, Butch just didn’t know how Mags could go for a Ghoul. The idea of skin and body parts just fallin’ off didn’t appeal to him. Then again, Tulip seemed like the kind of girl right up Magnolia’s alley. Literate and well aware of how people worked. “You always had a thing for the book smart kinda girls.”

 

“Book smart _people_ , Butch. Not just girls.” Magnolia says while hiding her blushing face, like correcting him will ease her embarrassment somehow. Butch frowns at that, shifts his arm carefully under his head. He gives her a look like he’s staring at a pop quiz Mr. Brom just handed out to him.

 

“I thought you were only inta girls?” He asks blatantly. “I mean, I only ever saw ya interested in girls.” He amends. He doesn’t want to offend the only friend he’s really got out here.

 

“Butch, I don’t really think about a person’s gender.” Magnolia sees Butch’s confused expression get worse. “What I mean to say…” She takes a pause to articulate her thoughts, just as she always does when she’s explaining something to him. “When I find someone sexually attractive, their gender is something I don’t consider. To me, their gender just isn’t a factor in how I feel about them.” She pauses again, looking at her toes that peek out from under her nest of blankets. “I believe the term for it is called pansexuality, at least it was before the bombs fell. I found a book at the Arlington library that explained sexualities and gender. An interesting read.” She finishes, looking at Butch with a sincere smile.  

 

“Okay… But I only see ya dating girls.” Butch says like it’s a matter of fact. He’s trying to to be sensitive for once, but his confusion and his blatant attitude is digging him into a hole, he knows it. He’s lucky that Magnolia is such a patient person — so patient even when he doesn’t deserve it—  otherwise, he’d been thrown out of the room by now.

Still, there’s an awkward pause between the two, something that’s as rare as finding Nuka Quantum. Butch bites his lip and looks at the open doorway behind his bedmate. He knows this is a sensitive topic, especially for Magnolia. The Vault didn’t allow same sex relationships, because according to the Overseer, “Your duty is to Vault 101. That includes procreation.”

 

“Who I’m dating doesn’t determine my sexuality, Butch,” Magnolia suddenly says without any sign of exasperation in her voice, yet Butch can hear the strain of annoyance lingering between each word. He looks at her with an apologetic look, and she pats him on the arm with a kind touch —which Butch appreciates a lot more than she knows—. “Just because I’m interested in another woman right now, doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian, nor does it mean I’m suddenly straight when I’m interested in a man.”

 

“Right… Sorry.” Butch mumbles and finds the flower printed sheets he’s curled up around very interesting suddenly.

 

“It’s alright. Besides,” She continues, “Just because you’ve only seen me date women doesn’t mean I haven't dated men at all. In fact, I dated Paul for about a year--”

 

“Wait, _what?_ Paul? You dated _Paulie_ . _Our_ Paulie?” Butch leaves out _‘_ _My Paulie_ _’_ , even though he’s never had a problem with it ‘til now. Maybe because Paulie’s dead, and when people die, they don’t belong to no one anymore.

 

“Ah--” Magnolia’s eyes widen a fraction. “You… never knew? I mean, obviously you didn’t for a time, but I had always thought you found out during prom after we broke up.” She explains, waving her hands around in small but quick movements.

 

“You dated Paul Hannon Jr… Holy shit, I never thought that crush he had on you would lead anywhere!” He feels a familiar weight constrict on his heart. He doesn’t know why, but it hurts in a way that only words had ever managed to do. Maybe because he thought Paulie was the kinda friend that would tell him about that kinda shit. Apparently not.

 

“Well yes, he did,” Mags pauses for a moment, as though she’s spotted something on Butch’s face that he doesn’t know is there. “Paul was usually more kind to me than the other boys. He even helped Amata and I have our secret dates for a while before we were caught.” Magnolia smiles at her hands, fiddling with the blanket. Cheeks tinted a light pink and she smiles fondly. Reminiscently.

Butch has a memory of Wally and himself ribbing Paul for dating two girls at once when Butch was fourteen. At the time, they viewed it as an accomplishment. Paulie just smiled at the both of them as they kept trying to get him to spill any dirt on Amata and Magnolia.

 

Butch also remembers the way Paulie’s small smile didn’t reach his eyes. Remembers the assembly that scared the shit outa him for years to come, all while Amata stood by her father, looking as though she might cry every time the Overseer used that colorful slur. He remembers the way his little chest felt heavy afterwards, trying to figure out why it felt like that for so long that he eventually gave up.

 

“We also worked together closely after the G.O.A.T. assigned him the head engineer job, while I was assigned the head of the science department. You remember,” Mags suddenly interrupts his thoughts, driving those memories away as soon as she answered him. He looks up and gives her a nod. “Well, eventually I realized we had a lot in common and just started dating each other. It was nice, for a while.”

 

“But you broke up with him anyway?” He ignores the way his voice’s pitch changes on the last two words. “At prom?” Butch shoots her a glare without even meaning to. How dare Mags brake his Paulie’s heart. His pointed glare turns into a grimace as he looks back at the dirty sheets. _His Paulie_ … Right.

 

“He broke up with me technically,” Mags clarifies, stating it like a fact, “If there was one thing we argued a lot on, it was him running around with you and the rest of the Tunnel Snakes. Obviously, it’s not like that anymore.” She pauses to give him a soft smile. His mouth twitches into a quick smile for a moment before it fades away. Magnolia continues, “But back then... I can’t say you were the nicest people. And while Paul was so sweet and kind-hearted, whenever he hung out with you and your other friends, he’d become quite the jerk. It upset me, but he wouldn’t stop being your friend. His loyalty was an endearing quality, but... it was also one of his greatest faults.” Mags voice goes quiet, soft. It hurts to hear it. “He broke up with me at prom after another big fight about it. I was so angry and upset, I ended up crying in the bathroom the entire night.” She looks up then, “I loved him so much.”

 

“Hey man, I’m sorry that happened.” Butch wants to reach out and comfort her in some way but decides against it. His touch might not be welcomed after relieving such a memory.

 

“You know, I think that was the day I tried beating the crap out of you…” she places a finger on her lips, pondering. Always quick to change the subject. Butch gives her a confused look. “You were drunk when it happened,” She explains, “You came bursting into the ladies bathroom by mistake, I saw you, and I just… lost it.”

 

“Holy shit.” Butch sits straight up, “I remember that! I remember you screamin’ your head off, calling me all kinds of nasty shit. You even nailed me a few times with them tiny fists of your!” There’s a wicked grin on his face.

 

“They’re not that tiny…” Magnolia clenches her hands and examines them with a pout.

 

“Hell, you even told me that everyone would be better off if I didn’t exist.” His smile falters, but only a little. It’s a reality he has to live with. That he was a terrible person, and everyone hated him for it. “Man, you were pissed and I didn’t even know what I did… Shit.” Butch scratches his head, leaning on his elbow.

 

“I’m sorry about that. I was-- _very_ upset.”

 

“That’s a fuckin’ understatement,” Butch snorts, “Fuck, I always wondered what made you snap like that. I never thought it was Paulie’s doin’ though.”

 

There’s another long, awkward pause before he hears Magnolia shift a little in her nest. He lays back down and looks at the ceiling again. His arms flat on the bed, no longer cushioning his head. He counts the cracks in the plaster one by one until he reaches thirteen.

 

“Hey, you and Paulie ever fuck?” He turns his head, facing Magnolia. Her face is a symphony of reds. Her eyes wide and gawking.

 

“Uhmmm—  We— Uhhh…” She stutters, breaking eye contact and biting her thumb. Butch smirks.

 

“Did he rock your world, Mags?” Butch bites his lips and arches his brows high and low, wriggling them. Teasing her with just a look alone.

 

She blushes even deeper, “Shut up!” An arm comes out of the nest again and shoves him. It’s rough, but Butch just laughs.

 

Things calm down after a few minutes, both looking at each other with goofy grins. The corners of Butch’s smile relax into something bittersweet.

 

“Ya know, he talked about ya before he died,” Butch says suddenly. It’s solemn in that brave yet sad sort of way, like reading someone’s eulogy.  Magnolia peaks up with a surprised look. “I thought it was just his crush on you comin’ back before he kicked it, but he—” Butch feels his throat tighten up suddenly. Paul died a year ago, he shouldn’t be on the verge of tears like this. “He really loved ya.” He manages to get out through the pinhole opening of his throat.

 

He feels Magnolia shift towards him and reaches out. He feels her warm hand against his neck, warm and comforting as it strokes up and down his throat. It’s not a pitying touch, and Butch feels himself falling a little bit more in love with Magnolia in that Tunnel Snake kind of way.

 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Her voice sounds sad, unmendable. Butch grabs ahold of her hand, lacing their fingers together like she was his lifeline. He remembers Paul’s face. The blank expression and dull eyes as he gazed towards the ceiling. He remembers the shitty blanket Amata had gently laid over Paul’s broken and bloody body, hiding his face from the cruel world. Butch remembers the burning heat and fire of the incinerator, how he watched Paul burn to ashes just like he did for his dad when he was three.

 

“Butch… Did you—” Magnolia’s voice is so gentle and cautious like Butch is this fragile thing that could break with a simple push of a breeze. “Did you love Paul?”

 

“ _Course_ I did! Paulie was a Tunnel Snake! Even in the end!” He sits up with an indignant look.

 

“That’s not what I meant Butch,” Magnolia says, eyeing him like she’s trying to make Butch understand without words.

 

He doesn’t get it. Instead, he looks at her with confusion and slight desperation. “I don’t—” He tries.

 

“Did you— ” Magnolia goes quiet for a moment, licking her lips. There’s a long pause where Magnolia shifts her eyes to and fro, trying to decide her next words carefully. It’ll be something short and cutting, like a switchblade glinting in a dark corridor, but also something that he’ll be able to unravel himself. Let him do the self-discovery shit for once so she doesn’t have to tediously spell it out for him.

 

When she looks up, her gaze is unwavering. Butch recognizes it as her pinning him down, making him think. It’s her way of letting him prepare because she’s about to let something drop. Something that’ll turn his world upside down.

 

Finally, she opens her mouth and Butch tries not to bury himself further into his covers, “Butch,” she begins carefully, “Did you love Paul like you love me?”

 

“He was one of my Tunnel Snakes man, same as you. What more do you want?” Butch doesn’t understand the line of questioning Magnolia is getting at, but he feels something clicks into place and knows his voice starts pitching into denial for no reason he can discern, “He was one of my closest friends, my best pal. Just like you.”

 

“Did you ever feel like he was yours and only yours? That no one else could or should have him like you could?” It’s a question that cuts him down and leaves him for dead. Leaves him bare and open for everyone to see. To take from him without his consent.

 

“I—” He falters. She pounces.

 

“Butch, remember that day the Overseer caught Amata and me? Remember that speech he made? What were you thinking that day?” Her voice is a calm breeze against his whirling mind. It’s a sudden halt from the chaotic speed.

 

“Fuckin’ annoyed, like every other time that ass hat made a speech like that.”

 

“No Butch, I mean did you feel any _different_ that time?”

 

“I don’t understand what you’re gettin’ at—”

 

“I just want to know how you felt about—”

 

“ _Afraid_ okay! I was scared outa my mind!” Butch suddenly untangles himself from the nest of blankets and sheets, trying to stand up. “I don’t know why I did, but fuck— It scared me so bad— ”

 

“Why?” Magnolia hasn’t moved from where she is, but her arm is outstretched, calling him back to her comfort.

 

He doesn’t know at first, but something about that question, the why, the reasoning behind it all, shatters a delicate piece inside him he didn’t know existed. He stands up, wrenching the covers from himself and stomps to the window. He digs through his stuff and finds his cigarette and lighter quickly and lights one up. His hands still tremble as he pulls it back to blow out a lungful of smoke.

 

“Butch?” He hears Magnolia shift behind him, probably to sit up. “I’m sorry. I should have been there.”

 

“It ain’t your fault.” He croaks out, and for the first time, he realizes that he’s crying. Fucking perfect. “Not like you knew what was gonna happen after you left.” There’s a vicious, irrational part of him that wants to smack Mags, berate her for not coming back in time. To save Paulie.

 

He hears more shifting before a warm hand takes his shoulder. It runs back and forth in a way that never fails to calm his fraying mind. Butch hunches further in, trying to hide from the kindness like he doesn’t deserve it. He shakes from holding in a sob and the cigarette quickly becomes abandoned on the old windowsill.

 

The safety and comfort of the darkness is all he has when he covers his face with his hands. It proves to be a fruitless refuge as it only supplies more clear images of Paul — _his Paulie_ — laying there, covered in scabs and puss, looking at him with big eyes that tell the world that he’s accepted his fate.

 

He feels a lump in his throat. He wanted to tell Paulie everything. All the messed up feelings he’s had since he was nine years old. All the stupid nights he stayed up thinking about smooth, dark skin against his. All the pain he felt every time he saw those beautiful brown eyes light up when they looked at someone else. But it was just, he didn’t know the words he was looking for to describe it all.

 

So, he choked. He just sat there on the dirty floor, like a chump, and gripped his Paulie’s hand ‘till it hurt —it must hurt have Paulie with the way his whole arm had shook—. He choked on his words and instead watched the light in Paulie’s eyes fade along with everything else.

 

It’s only now, after a God damn _year_ , that he’s finally figured out the words he’d been looking for. The sudden realization and the bitterness that follows almost fucking kills him.

 

He looks up at Magnolia then. He can’t take the memory anymore, the feelings wreaking havoc in his chest. He needs to find solace in her face, her eyes, her touch. She pulls him to her and envelopes him, draping the blanket she dragged along over him. She hides him from the demons and monsters that threaten to take everything from him. It’s only then, in the safety of her darkness, that he lets go.

 

Butch cries and cries ‘til his throat is sore and his tears dry up. He cries for what the Vault did, the fear it taught everyone. He cries for Magnolia, for the awful things he did to her and what she ended up losing. He cries for Paulie, his beautiful Paulie, taken too young, and never knowing the love Butch had for him. And Butch cries for himself and how fucked up life is. A comforting hand rubs his back, guiding him through the tears and sadness.

 

-*0*-

 

The world keeps turning despite all the tragedies that have unfolded, like a stubborn bitch. But Butch wishes he could grab the little blue ball and spin it backwards. Go back in time and say, “Fuck it.” just so he could sit here in this moment, feeling less regret.

 

After the revelation he’d rather not have had, he and Magnolia head back to Rivet City. She thinks he needs some time to unwind, but the ship ain’t the place to do it with all its rules and stuck up people. Butch spends most of his time on the deck, drinking away his problems rather than let Bonnie suffer through another one of his, “ _I fucking hate myself, so I’ll just drink til I die_ ” bouts.

 

Magnolia tries to bring up what happened only once. Butch was lucky he didn’t get thrown off the ship with the tantrum he pulled. His saving grace was probably almost braking Bannon’s jaw. Everyone hates that guy. Since then, Magnolia has left him alone to stew in his own thoughts. Though she makes a point in telling him that if he ever needs her, she’ll be there for him.

 

It’s a comforting thought that sits pleasantly at the back of his mind. A security he hadn’t had for a very long time. Still, it doesn’t quiet the whirlwind of thoughts that threaten to tear him down every other day. It also hasn’t stopped people from prying. Offering kind words to something they know nothing about. Even if they seem sincere, it’s all hollow to Butch.

 

What he really wants, what he needs, is for everyone to stop looking at him like he might break. Sure, he just might at any given moment, but pity doesn’t fix anything. It can’t send him back in time to redo his shitty life. He just wants to mourn and drink. Is that so hard?

 

Apparently, it is, because Chief Stick-In-His-Ass decides nows the time to pay him a visit.

 

“DeLoria, what the hell is this mess?” Harkness gazes down at Butch like he’s some speck of mud that got on his polished boots. Butch just sneers and takes another sip of his beer. He looks out over the Potomac, wondering if he could swim it to the other side. Maybe then people would fucking leave him alone.

 

He hears Harkness sigh in that grating way that means his patience is wearing thin, but he’s still willing to dish out warnings. Butch pauses at that, wondering when exactly he became so attuned to Harkness’ subtle tells. He finds that he _really_ doesn’t wanna go down that rabbit hole, and decides to just keep drinking.

 

There are heavy footsteps then a loud clang, signaling Harkness’ departure. Butch scoffs. Good riddance. Maybe now he can finally get some peace and quiet.

 

He looks at the stack of empty beer bottles he’s collected and counts them all to see how long he’s actually been up here. It’s surprisingly a lot.

 

There’s another loud clang, which hardly draws Butch’s attention other than a huff of annoyance. The heavy steps stop beside him, and he jumps as something is dropped against the flight deck, making another loud clang that echoes across the afternoon sky.

 

Butch jerks his head up and sees Harkness towering over him with a tired look on his face. He’s holding a large empty drum that seems too heavy for him to carry, but it’s here regardless. He picks up an empty bottle and tosses it into the drum before pointedly looking at Butch and nodding towards the scattered collection.

 

“Clean,” he orders.

 

Butch bristles, drawing close to scramble up and start another tantrum, but Harkness cuts him off.

 

“I’ll help.” he picks up another bottle and tosses it in. Butch deflates. For a moment he just stares at the man before Harkness meets his look and raises a brow. Butch scoffs, but gets up, stretching out joints he didn’t realize were aching so badly.

 

Butch was never one for making trips, not enough patience for that. So it’s a relatively quick clean up as he collects and dumps arm-fulls of bottles and trash into the drum. It takes them fifteen minutes to clean up Butch’s little corner of the flight deck, and for some reason, it makes him feel better.

 

“You know,” he hears Harkness pipe up as the drum is placed by the door. Butch looks over, watching him dust his hands off, “Sometimes a little distraction is a good thing for the mind. Keeps you from wallowing in your own thoughts.” Harkness looks at him then. Blue eyes looking at him like he’s some kinda mechanic inspecting a Mr. Handy. Like he knows exactly what’s wrong.

 

“I ain’t wallowin’.” Butch defends. It’s weak though.

 

Harkness just huffs, crosses his arms and shakes his head, “Sure you weren’t DeLoria. The bottles are just part of an arts and crafts project, right?”

 

Butch doesn’t find himself bristling like he usually does. No anger or indignation flares up this time. And yet… he realizes that he doesn’t mind this. The banter, the casual back and forth between him and the Chief. It’s better than the looks of pity, the comforting words that mean nothing to him.

 

“Yeah. Making a stain glass window for the church.” he snorts. Harkness just raises a brow rolling his eyes in amusement. He turns to leave and Butch goes to follow but pauses as he looks out into the wastes below, feeling a sudden breeze passing by him. He snaps to when he hears the heavy squeak of the door.

 

Harkness turns, blue eyes electric, like a gentle thunderstorm. His frown falters. Grows softer. “Hey,” he calls out, getting Butch’s full attention, “I don’t know what happened, and I’m not going to pretend that I do, but you doing this,” he motions to the corner Butch held himself in, now divested of old beer bottles, “It’s not helping anyone. Especially yourself.”

 

Harkness’ logic is sharp, cutting right through any excuse he might have to keep pushing everyone away. Still, there’s a part of him that still wants to rebel, even just a little.

 

“What if I’m in mourning? What if I wana keep doin’ this ‘till it just…” he licks his lips, avoiding Harkness’ heavy gaze, “Just stops.” He finishes.

 

“Mourning's fine. Reflecting and broodings alright too.” Harkness turns to him fully then, “That’s part of how life works. How it is to be human.” There’s a pause between them where Butch strains to hear whatever Harkness might say next. “But you and I both know it doesn’t stop. Shit like that will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

 

Butch slumps, defeated. He suddenly feels very tired. A kind of exhaustion that seeps into his bones and sole. Regret claws at him relentlessly. He should have said something to Paul. Should have done something in all the years he was able to know him. Should have—

 

“You have to keep going, though,” he looks up and Harkness sets him with a solemn gaze, “That’s another part of being human. The will to just… stubbornly keep going, for whatever reason.” There’s something there in Harkness’ gaze. A nameless emotion that makes him look far off like he’s talking more to himself than Butch. But regardless, he lets the words sink in, and for the first time in weeks, the whirlwind of thoughts grow quiet. Even if only for a moment.

 

Paulie would want that, he realizes. For Butch to be stubborn and just keep _going_. To live. He cracks a smile for the first time in a long while. It’s small, fragile, but it’s genuine.

 

“Thanks, Chief,” he says. Harkness just raises both his brows, clearly in shock that Butch has such words in his vocabulary.

 

He coughs, flustered. Something Butch has never had the pleasure of seeing before but thinks that he likes it a lot. Harkness manages to mumble a rough, ‘your welcome’ before he turns once again and finally exists the flight deck. Butch stays there for a moment, letting the wind around him pick up and die down. Letting the silence comfort him for just a few moments.

 

He walks to the door and opens it before taking in a deep breath and walking through the threshold. He spots Magnolia talking animatedly with Seagrave about… something. Probably nerd stuff. Gary’s behind the counter, handing out sweets to the kids. Flak and Shrapnel are arguing, but it’s more amusing than alarming. Harkness is with Lana, probably talking about security shit, but he spots Butch and gives him a quick nod.

 

Butch nods back and walks down the steps to tear Mags away before she and Seagrave plan to build some kinda robot or death ray, or whatever nerds like to tinker with. Either way, it’s something to do.

 

Butch’s still hurting, probably will for the rest of his life, but it’s a start. A start to recovering, to accepting. Maybe a start of something new, he thinks as he looks over at Harkness getting involved in Flak and Shrapnel’s little quarrel.

 

And for right now, that’s good enough for him.

 


End file.
